


Where do we go from here?

by simplyoverstated



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Anorexia, Anorexic, Eating Disorder, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post Finale, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 03:35:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12147771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyoverstated/pseuds/simplyoverstated
Summary: Starvation robs you of your focus, your personality, your individuality. It leaves an empty shell of a person, who looks like you but sicker. It no longer contains who you used to be.orBuffy suffers from an eating disorder and suicidal ideation after the destruction of Sunnydale





	Where do we go from here?

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Eating Disorder and suicide trigger warnings. Please take care of yourself and don't read this if you think you might be triggered.

When Buffy looked at her reflection she saw it, sometimes. The hollow cheeks, the thin frame. It was like an optical illusion. She could stare at the mirror for hours and not see it, but sometimes if she caught a glimpse of herself in a darkened window or in a picture, she wouldn’t immediately register that it was her. She would see the thin, sick girl that everyone else saw. And it was far too disconcerting when she finally realized she was gazing into her own empty eyes. _How could that be me?_ But it was, and it scared her more than she would ever say.

It didn’t used to be this way. Had she just started seeing someone else in the mirror one day? If so, what was the reason? Who had cursed her with this funhouse perception of her own body; her temple? The only place she would always reside. What had turned her against herself in a war no one could win?

Chemicals in her brain, maybe. At least in part. A feeling of helplessness in the face of a life with twists and turns and monsters and angels. Maybe she was broken; if everyone else could go through life just fine, what was wrong with her? Even with everything she had lost, things seemed to hit her harder than other people. Perhaps this was just natural selection. She wasn’t supposed to live long anyways, being the slayer and all.

Maybe everyone did suffer in some way or another. Maybe hers just happened to be more obvious, or more deadly. She knew a boy once who slept all the time because he couldn’t face the world. Too much sleep wouldn’t kill you. Or maybe it would, if you got so lost in dreams that you lost track of reality. Thinking back, there wasn’t too much of a difference between him and her. They both just wanted to escape reality for a bit.

She wanted to die, sometimes, didn’t she? That was reason enough to step off the ledge and leave the living to those who wanted it. But was her taking up space such a burden? If she could be independent, get a job, not eat. If she could sustain her habits without it putting a strain on those around her, maybe she didn’t have to give it up, and she didn’t have to die. At least not right away.

_That’s selfish._ And unrealistic. To think she could escape without leaving a mark on the world, without burdening people around her. To exist is to be a burden sometimes, one of her therapists had told her. She couldn’t remember which one.

And of course there was Dawn and Willow and Xander. They were all she had left of her old life, her life in Sunnydale. And they were worried about her. It wasn’t a secret that she was sick. When she dropped below 90 pounds it was only a matter of time before her friends and her sister began to notice something was up. It wasn’t until she found herself unable to swallow more than a couple bites of anything at one time that it was confirmed. She, of course, had known it long ago, when she lost the first few pounds and felt alive again for the first time in a very long time.

Now she was on her death bed, or at least that’s what they told her. Not that she didn’t believe them; her heart hurt in her chest and she knew it would give out before long. But she didn’t seem to mind it as much as she thought she would. She was tired, and while the doctor lectured and Willow cried and Xander yelled, she had to fight to keep her eyes open.

_If you keep going like this you’re going to die._ It was supposed to feel, she knew, like a jumpstart, a motivation to recover, to eat. To her it felt more like express permission to drift off to sleep after a long period of waking. It felt like a relief.

She knew she couldn’t stop. So she was going to die. Simple as that; no decisions, no more fights or debates. She would die, and a great pressure seemed to have lifted off her shoulders.

And did she really believe him, anyways? She had died twice already, for god’s sake. She wasn’t supposed to live past 18 and here she was, pushing 30. So would she really die from this?

If she did, it would be well past her expiration date anyways. She had already exceeded expectations. Couldn’t they let her rest now? How many more times did she have to save the world before they would be happy?

She couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. They fluttered shut, and her tense body relaxed. The last voice she heard was Willow’s, her best friend, her rock. _Buffy!_ And then everything was black.


End file.
